


this is only one part of something passing

by nsofties



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Heartbreak, Introspection, M/M, PLEASE read the authors notes at the beginning, References to Depression, Snapshots, the death is not graphic or detailed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 10:51:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18150902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsofties/pseuds/nsofties
Summary: He just wants to forget everything that ever happened.





	this is only one part of something passing

**Author's Note:**

> _**notable warnings:**_  
>  **major character death.** not explicitly described, mentioned in passing.   
> **references to/implied depression.**  
>  **implied/described panic attack.**
> 
> time passes differently when you lose someone you love.

“You’re selfish.” It felt cliché and stupid, standing the middle of a public park. “I hate this, you know. I hate the person I’ve become because of you. It’s better that we end this, don’t you think?”

  
  
  


It’s 1:27 in the morning when he receives the call. Ten’s voice is frantic and broken and it sounds like he can’t breathe until the call cuts out. His breath stills for a moment before his phone rings again. Taeyong, this time. Kun had accepted months ago that he wouldn’t hear from them again. That they had chosen sides and that was fair - he was there first, long before Kun. It was fair.

Taeyong’s voice is barely composed, but it’s still curt and clipped and sharp and everything painful. He listens to him carefully, thinks about his words for a moment, before the line goes dead and Kun is left in the darkness of his apartment bedroom. The obtrusive green combination of numbers and letters on his alarm clock blink - 2:00 AM. It’s not like he was sleeping, anyways. He hasn’t been able to for months.

Kun isn’t sure if he’s allowed to feel anything, do anything, know anything. The call sounded frantic and rushed - as if they didn’t know what to do. Kun doesn’t know what to do, either. The information sits heavy in his mind and it dwells until he’s wide awake, eyes staring blankly into the darkness. His ceiling is occasionally lit by the flicker of light from his router and he blinks in time with the flashes.

_ Breathe _ , he thinks.  _ In. Out. In. Out _ . 

His chest doesn’t feel heavy and, on second thought, Kun realizes he isn’t feeling  _ anything _ . The sound of his breathing is quick and ragged in the silence and he feels like he’s choking. The heels of his hands dig into his temples as he rolls onto his side, curling into a tight ball. He wonders if this is what he gets - if this is what he deserves and decides that, yes. It’s what he deserves. The world closes in and Kun feels so desperately alone.

At some point during the night his phone falls to the floor, sleep finally visiting him. The sunlight filtering in through the cracks of his blinds feel taunting, leering, dangerous as it warms his face. It hurts to open his eyes, stuck together. The white of his ceiling, of his walls, of his comforter, of his sheets, feel alien for a moment, and Kun wonders if he’s woken up in another life.

Turning to the empty space beside him, he decides to sleep a little longer.

  
  
  


Kun had decided weeks - maybe months - ago that breaking up with Johnny was the best option - the only option - moving forward. Forever was scary for Kun, and Kun was - is - selfish. The park seemed like a nice place. Full of nice people and nice things. Kun thought that it was the perfect place, if any, to break Johnny’s heart.

He realized eventually that it wasn’t - that it was the worst fucking place and he was truly the worst fucking person. Johnny’s face haunts him to this day - the pain, the sorrow, the anguish, the confusion, the regret, the concern, the  _ everything _ that he couldn’t put into words. Kun only realized when he was walking away that he was making a mistake. Or he had realized when the thought first appeared in his head that it was a  _ terrible _ idea. The worst fucking idea possible, really.

That evening, Taeyong had stormed into his apartment screaming, ranting, raving -  _ livid _ . Kun knew that he deserved every single thing Taeyong said that night before Ten appeared. They gathered Johnny’s things and Kun sat there on the couch in silence, reruns of CSI playing on the television. That evening, Kun learned how crushing silence could truly be.

It’s still bad - the silence still drives him a little mad, suffocating him and stifling any sort of healing he could do. ( _ Not that you deserve it _ , his thoughts whisper.  _ You don’t deserve it at all. _ ) Kun wished for something - for the smallest bit of closure from the clusterfuck he created. He knows now that door is closed. Permanently.

The invitation for the funeral is stuck to his fridge with the magnet set that Johnny told him to buy for the apartment when they went on vacation to Fujian to see Kun’s parents. They were stuck in the airport, four hours early for their flight back to Korea. Johnny had told Kun they would be cute - a momento. Kun had been in love. There was no hesitation.

It had been quick, Taeyong had said. Quick and painless. A drunk driver, a ran red light, dead at the scene. Short, brief - a lot like the phone call that told him. It was all Kun would, could, is allowed to know about it. It’s all he wanted to know about it, anyways.

Kun knows what suit he’ll wear to the funeral.

  
  
  


All Kun knows how to do anymore is hate. He hates everything that he used to love. He isn’t sure where to go from here.  _ If _ there’s anywhere to go from here. Kun wonders, as he looks at the dust floating in the air, if he never gets up again, will everything stop hurting? If he never leaves his bed again, will he wake up in a different life? Rolling onto his side, he looks at the suit on the back of his door, slightly wrinkled.

Kun remembers when he first bought it, he thought he would be wearing it to a wedding. Johnny’s funeral wasn’t on his list of places to wear a suit. Not immediately, anyways. He knew it would happen eventually - either of their funerals would eventually happen. It’s just the way of life. But Kun is twenty-five and didn’t think it would happen  _ now _ .

Over dinner once, Johnny had told Kun he wanted Forget-Me-Not’s for their wedding. Kun had been surprised and confused but nodded anyways. They were a symbol of undying love, Johnny had explained, a wistful smile on his face. He had told Kun that it was fitting for them. Back then he had scoffed. He wishes he hadn’t.

After the funeral, Kun bought a bouquet of Forget-Me-Nots. The florist had looked at him and asked with a smile who they were for.  _ No one _ , he had thought, as he handed over the money in silence.  _ No one anymore, anyways _ . He put them in Johnny’s old  _ I Heart Chicago _ mug that Taeyong and Ten had left behind, filled with lukewarm tap water.

He wants to strike out, shatter the mug and the memories and let them soak into the carpet. It might make him feel better, he thinks - it might be cathartic. But he’s not angry. Kun’s not sure if he’s  _ anything _ . An ugly emptiness settled deep in his chest and Kun isn’t sure how he’s going to get it out.  _ He would know _ , his mind whispers.  _ You know _ .

His fingers dig into his sides and he wishes that Johnny was still here.

  
  
  


When Kun finally sleeps, he hopes that he’ll wake up in another world where Johnny is still beside him.

(He won’t. Johnny will never come back, not in this universe. He won’t.)

The Forget-Me-Not’s on his bedside table wilt that night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

“In another world, we’re probably apart, you know,” says Kun, turning to face Johnny, who wraps his arms around him securely.

“Not in this world, though. That’s all that matters.”

“I hate the thought.”

“I do, too.” Johnny presses his lips to Kun’s forehead, closing his eyes. “I do, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from dear dream.  
> yell at me.  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/nsofties)  
> [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/nsofties)


End file.
